This Old-Fashioned Indiana Restaurant Serves A Coconut Cream Pie Worth Every Mile

I’ve driven past a thousand diners in my life, but there’s one little turquoise spot on Indianapolis’s east side that keeps pulling me back like a pie-scented magnet.

Steer-In Restaurant isn’t trying to be trendy or Instagram-famous—it’s just a classic Hoosier joint serving honest food and legendary desserts that locals guard like state secrets.

And trust me, once you taste that coconut cream pie, you’ll understand why people plan road trips around it.

A Turquoise Time Capsule On Indy’s East Side

First time I spotted Steer-In, I honestly thought someone had painted a vintage postcard and dropped it onto East 10th Street. The building practically glows in its signature turquoise hue, standing out like a cheerful beacon among the everyday strip malls and gas stations. It’s been serving hungry Hoosiers since 1960, and the owners clearly aren’t interested in modernizing what already works perfectly.

Walking up to those doors feels like stepping through a portal to simpler times. The neon sign still flickers with old-school charm, and the parking lot fills up fast during breakfast and lunch rushes. This isn’t some manufactured “retro” experience—it’s the genuine article, preserved through decades of community love and coconut custard.

Step Inside: Wood Paneling, Red Booths, Real Community

Push open that door and boom—instant nostalgia hits you harder than your grandma’s hug. Dark wood paneling covers the walls, red vinyl booths line the perimeter, and everything feels comfortably worn-in rather than worn-out. I’ve watched regulars slide into “their” booths with the ease of coming home, greeting servers by name and ordering without cracking a menu.

The counter seating up front offers prime real estate for solo diners and pie-watchers like myself. You can see straight into the kitchen action while eavesdropping on the most genuine slice-of-life conversations you’ll ever hear. Nobody’s putting on airs here—just neighbors catching up, families celebrating Little League victories, and strangers becoming friends over coffee refills.

Why Locals Swear By The Coconut Cream Pie

My friend Janet drove forty-three miles just for this pie, and I thought she’d lost her marbles until I took my first bite. The coconut cream pie at Steer-In has achieved near-mythical status among central Indiana dessert enthusiasts, spawning Facebook groups and spawning heated debates about whether it’s better than grandma’s version. Spoiler alert: it probably is, but don’t tell grandma I said that.

What makes people this fanatical about custard and coconut? It’s the consistency—both literal and metaphorical. Every single slice tastes exactly as incredible as the last one you had three months ago. The filling strikes that impossible balance between rich and light, sweet but not cloying, with real coconut flavor instead of artificial nonsense.

Crust, Custard, Cloud: Deconstructing A Perfect Slice

Let me break down this masterpiece layer by delicious layer, because it deserves that kind of respect. The bottom crust comes out flaky and golden, holding its structural integrity even under the weight of generous custard—no soggy bottoms in this establishment. That custard layer is thick, silky, and studded with real shredded coconut that adds texture without turning chewy or weird.

Then comes the crowning glory: a mountain of meringue that’s been torched to golden-brown perfection. It’s not that stiff, plasticky meringue you get from grocery store pies—this stuff is cloud-like, with just enough sweetness to complement the custard below. Fork through all three layers in one bite, and you’ll understand why people write poetry about this dessert.

Not Just Dessert—Breakfasts, Burgers, And Hoosier Classics

Sure, the pie steals headlines, but showing up just for dessert would be like visiting the Grand Canyon and only looking at the gift shop. Steer-In’s breakfast menu could make a morning person out of anyone, with fluffy biscuits and gravy that could end arguments and omelets stuffed so full they barely fold. I’ve watched construction workers and businesspeople alike demolish their signature breakfast skillets before 8 AM.

Lunch brings out the burger crowd, and rightfully so—these aren’t fancy gastropub creations with seventeen toppings and a pretentious name. They’re honest, juicy, perfectly-seasoned patties on soft buns with all the classic fixings. The tenderloin sandwich runs bigger than your head, because this is Indiana and we don’t do dainty.

The Art Of Service: Efficient, Warm, And Totally Unpretentious

My server Nancy remembered my name on my second visit, which either means I made an impression or she’s just that good at her job. The staff here moves with the practiced efficiency of people who’ve poured a million cups of coffee but still treat each customer like they matter. There’s no hovering, no forced cheerfulness—just genuine Midwestern friendliness and the kind of service that anticipates your needs before you voice them.

During my last visit, I watched a server patiently explain every pie option to an indecisive customer without a trace of impatience. They’ll steer you toward the coconut cream if you’re a first-timer, but they won’t judge you for ordering the chocolate instead. That’s the beauty of this place—zero pretension, maximum hospitality.

Sports Memories On The Walls, New Memories At The Table

Every inch of wall space tells a story, mostly involving basketballs, because this is Indiana and basketball is basically a religion. Faded photographs of local high school championship teams share space with signed jerseys and newspaper clippings yellowed with age. I’ve spent entire coffee refills just reading the walls, discovering decades of community pride preserved behind glass and frame.

But here’s the thing—while you’re admiring memories from 1978, you’re creating new ones right there at your table. I’ve seen marriage proposals happen in those red booths, witnessed Little League teams celebrating victories with pie, and watched three generations of families squeeze together for birthday dinners. The walls keep expanding their collection because this place keeps mattering to people.

Plan Your Visit: How To Do Steer-In Right

Here’s my insider strategy after a dozen visits: arrive before noon on weekdays to avoid the lunch rush, but not so early that the pies haven’t emerged from the kitchen yet. Weekends get absolutely slammed, so either embrace the wait or come prepared with patience and maybe a newspaper. Cash is king here, though they do accept cards—just know that ATM fees exist for a reason.

Order your meal, sure, but for the love of all things holy, save room for pie. I don’t care if you’re stuffed—you’ll regret skipping it more than you’ll regret the extra calories. Get it à la mode if you’re feeling fancy, or just straight-up traditional if you respect the classics. And yes, it’s perfectly acceptable to order pie for breakfast. I won’t tell.